Shinigami Minds
by Rasiaa
Summary: "Please don't let this be another Kira." Someone is committing a series of crimes that lead straight to L & his home. In a panic, he calls back the Task Force & the teenager he left behind: Yagami Raito. What follows is nothing less than a shock to everyone involved, a revival of souls put to rest many years before. Kira was a big deal, but he hardly holds a candle to this.
1. une

_This is a sequel to "Shinigami Eyes", which is my most popular story to date. You have to read that before you read this or else have no hope whatsoever at all of understanding this is the slightest bit._

 _This takes place two full years after Shinigami Eyes, and one year after the one-shot sequel to that, "Interlude." Visit my profile for the full list of stories in this universe and the order in which I suggest you read them._

 _This story is still a work in progress, but I asked you all if you wanted me to start posting what I have and update once I finish another chapter or if I should finish the entire thing first. The former won out, so here is the prologue. This story will deal with the following: depression, homosexuality, terrorism, descriptive writing (not sex), murder, language, and the boatloads of angst that come with unrequited love. In lesser amounts: medical, genius and everything that goes with that, abuse, character death. If I stumble across something while I write this, I'll add it to the top of the chapter where it takes place._

 _Because I want to have as much written as humanly possible, I will be updating this **monthly** until it is finished, and then will return to my weekly-updating norm. Do not expect another update until June._

 _Thank you all so much. This story has grown so much beyond what I had originally imagined. Hope you enjoy it._

* * *

Sharp, intelligent green eyes snapped to meet the brown ones of the other person in the room. A voice, deep and unnerving, questioned lowly, dangerously, "What do you mean? You can't do it?"

The brown eyes rolled in their sockets and the person stepped closer to the computer screen before them, leaning on the desk. Neither faced the other. "Of course I can do it," they snapped, glancing angrily at the partner in the dim white light provided by the computer screen.

"You'd better," the other warned, and the sound of a safety clicking off a gun echoed in the small room, resounding off the walls. "Or you know the punishment," they whispered, the gun moving to rest against the temple of the smaller figure and pressing harshly, sure to leave a mark later.

Snarling, the brown-eyed figure knocked the gun away, making the holder slam their arm on the desk and howl with pain. The threatened figure said fiercely, "It was just a small amount of technical difficulties. You can calm the fuck down."

Clearly enraged, the larger of the two whipped around to face their partner, their voice resonating, "You had better not dare do something like that again, you fool! Not after everything I've done for you!"

The other snorted and pointed an accusing finger, the limb shaking with suppressed rage. "You've done nothing for me," he whispered harshly. Lips curling, the other revealed white teeth, but the smaller seemed unfazed. "I'll get it done," he said, and began to walk away, shoes clicking on the concrete floor ominously.

When he was gone, the other turned and faced the computer, muttering, "You'd better. You'd better."

In the corner of the room, a figure shifted in the dark and the chains brushed against the walls of the iron cage around them, clinking loudly in the silence of the dark. The figure whipped around and fired a single bullet, which imbedded itself into the wall behind the cage. "You be quiet, Shinigami!" they roared, and turned swiftly back around, muttering.

Said Shinigami stared at the figure's back, red eyes gleaming. "You, too, will pay, you pathetic excuse for a human," the being whispered, almost inaudible.


	2. deux

_The next update will be July 7. I had this long note planned for you guys...then I did chores and now I remember none of it. Go figure._

* * *

 _Previously:_

 _A chain that bore a locket on the end is tossed to me, just as L presses the button for the elevator. Luckily, I catch it, then I look up, desperate, and a soft, fond smile is on L's lips. The glassy mask he always wears did not cover his onyx eyes. "I'll need that, someday," he says, and steps into the elevator. "It was my mother's, and it is very dear to me. Keep it safe, Raito."_

 _And then the doors slide shut, and I am left standing alone in the Task Force Headquarters' main lobby, staring at the elevator door. Knowing that L wouldn't have given it to me had he not been okay with me opening it, I unlock the gold charm and peer at the picture inside._

 _There is a picture of five people, standing in front of a small, run-down building. A man has his arms around a woman, and his other hand resting on the shoulder of a young girl. Two small, identical boys stand in front of them. The man is tall, with dark hair and a kind, but almost wild smile on his face. He has light blue eyes. The woman's hair is dark, too, and I can see that she has onyx eyes, just like L. She is smiling brightly, but her face looks broken, at the same time. The girl is very nearly the copy of her mother, but with her father's eyes. The boys, clearly, are L and his twin brother. There is no one else they could be, though I had no idea that L even had a twin brother._

 _Gently, I close the locket and make my way out of the Task Force's ex-Headquarters; my lips tingling from the kiss L and I had shared. I smile, and press my fingertips to my mouth, just as I step outside. I slip the locket into my pocket._

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

I stare at my ceiling, not really seeing it. The creamy surface brings a numbness to my never-still mind, a welcome change. My old ceiling in my parents' home had been painted the same way, but for whatever reason, it had not brought to me the same effects as the one in my new apartment. I can count the twists and turns present in the single crack near the edge of the wall next to my window, a repetitive action that soothes me the same way the ceiling does.

It has been two years since I have seen or heard from L last, and the time passing is steadily killing me. One would think that by now I would have fallen out of love with him, but that, sadly, is not the case. In fact, it is anything but. I finger the locket he gave me to keep safe idly from where is hangs from around my neck, knowing every dip, curve, dent and cut in the little bit of metal so thoroughly it is getting kind of ridiculous. I memorized the picture the first time I saw it, of course, but now I could tell you everything about it to the finest detail, because I have studied it so completely.

In the two years between the present and the ending of the Kira case, I moved into a small apartment not far from the police headquarters. I work as a detective there, and it's so terribly boring because the cases that come to me, while challenging, are nothing compared to the work that L has. My father tries to keep my mind as active as possible, knowing my potential, but people cannot reach me with their simple crimes. I solve them all in less than three hours on average, leaving me with days full of twiddling my thumbs and filling countless journals and notebooks with meaningless drawings and doodles.

Thinking of work reminds me that I might be running late, but when I glance at the clock, I'm still not due into work for another three and a half hours. Another sleepless night, I think sourly, closing my scarlet eyes against the sudden headache that I know has nothing to do with my curse. It's too mild. I groan and roll over right onto my phone that starts ringing as if I had pressed a button.

Startled, I sit up straight, letting go of L's locket as I do so. My ruffled and too-long hair falls into my blazing red eyes while I stare at the vibrating device on my bed that refuses to tell me who is calling me. Once more I glance at the clock and then turn back to my phone, indignant. Whoever the hell is calling me at four thirteen in the bloody morning is going to get a piece of my mind. I sigh and pick it up quickly, pressing it to my ear while greeting the person on the other end of the line, restraining my annoyance and saying the words as if I hadn't just rolled over with every intention of going to sleep again.

An unfamiliar voice sounds on the other end, "Yagami Raito?" it asks.

"Yes?" I reply, arranging myself more comfortably on my bed, leaning against the headboard with my legs out in front of me crossed at the ankle. I stare at an old crack in the wall across from me, following it with my eyes, waiting for the voice to continue.

There is the sound of paper rustling, and the voice continues after a minute. "Yes… my name is Matt. I was requested to call you by Roger Ruvie. Do you know him?"

My mind turns the name over and over for a moment. I've never heard it. I tell Matt this, and he sounds faintly surprised when he replies, "Oh. Well then. He's the manager of an orphanage for genius children." Matt pauses, and then says slowly, "Perhaps it will be of interest to you if I tell you that is where L grew up."

My heart and mind stop for a moment. My hand flies to the locket, the picture inside coming to my mind's eye. In the picture, L is standing with four other people, including his parents. He grew up in an orphanage…? What happened? Where are the rest of the people in the picture? I had gathered that his sister was dead, from the way he had clammed up about her after he let her existence slip. But some part of me had assumed that the other members of L's family had survived. Apparently I was mistaken. But how does this man know about that? Who is this? Is it some representative of L's? I would have thought that any of L's men would use the voice scrambler the same way L does.

"…To? Raito?" Matt's voice called, sounding mildly concerned. There's some commotion on his side of the line, and Matt's voice sounds distant when he says, "Shut up, you idiot! I'm on the phone, so fuck off!"

The swear word, for some reason, is what jolts me fully back into the present, away from the mystery of L's past. "Matt?" I ask smoothly, hoping that my moment of forgetfulness will be forgotten with my reply.

No such luck.

"Raito!" he says, "I didn't know if your connection broke or something? Everything alright?"

"Fine," I reply coldly. Perhaps there's something in my voice as I say that, but, thank god, he lets it drop.

"Alright. If you say so," he says slowly, then, "Anyway. Damn, where the hell did those papers go? For fuck's sake, I just had them, I swear." Becoming decreasingly unimpressed with Matt's behavior, I consider hanging up, but decide against it when Matt exclaims, "Found them! Fucking a, this place is so unorganized. Anyway, Roger said that L has requested your assistance in a new case. A plane ticket set for the 8am flight on plane 376 on November 2 will arrive in your mailbox within the next three or four days. Do not miss the flight. Watari will pick you up from the airport."

I blink, momentarily stunned, asking, "Where will this plane take me?"

"That is confidential," he answers immediately. "Good day, Yagami," and the call ends abruptly. I'm left staring at my phone as the dial tone sounds, pleased and nervous at the same time.

What could possibly have happened that L can't do this alone?

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

It's a question I ponder over the next couple of days during my free time, which, considering my job and its utter lack of interest, is quite a bit.

My father notices my preoccupation and stops me on my way to my office the day before I'm due to leave.

"Is something going on, son?" he questions, after guiding me into his office and closing the door behind us. He moves to sit behind his desk, sighing lightly as he gets off his feet. He's getting too old for the fieldwork, I think, eyeing the numbers hovering above his head with detached attentiveness. They had gone back up after the Kira case ended, and now they were nearing forty-five more years for him.

I shrug, sinking lightly into the chair across the desk, looking at the walls instead of the other man. "Nothing, Dad," I tell him, falsely.

As if sensing my lie, he sighs more heavily this time and removes his glasses, setting them atop some files in the center of his desk. His elbows find purchase on the piece of furniture, and he rubs at his face in that exhausted way that he's been doing since I was fifteen and Sayu had her first crush. ("She's noticing boys," my father had told my mother in despair, only to be met with my mother's friendly laughter, much to his chagrin. If only, I thought subconsciously years later when she was going on a date and my father repeated his sentiment, if only he knew that I noticed boys, too.)

"Are you sure, Raito?" he asks again, and for a spilt second, my eyes flash to meet my father's. I can see my reflection in his gaze and in the window behind him and I think, no, it's not okay, but what choice do I have but to pretend it is? It's just another damning secret. It seems like that is the anthem of my life.

I smile at him winningly and stand, making my way to the door. "Yes, Dad," I say, and duck out before he can call me back, shutting the door behind me.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The airport is very, very crowded. I'm being jostled this way and that, and all the while, looking for Watari is proving to be more of a hassle than I anticipated. The red glow of names and life spans is making my head spin, distorting my vision and I swallow back stomach acid. I need to sit down. I keep a firm grip on my suitcases anyway, despite the nausea I feel creeping up on me, dragging them behind me while my knuckles remain white on the handles. I eventually give up on dodging and finding a path through this maze of bodies and start shoving people out the way, keeping my head low and shoulders tucked in towards my body. It's been a long time since I was in a crowd like this.

I break free from the swarming people and search beneath the cover of my hair for an empty seat. One is near a window, and I make a beeline towards it, my bags clicking on the hardwood floor behind me. I fall into the seat with a sigh, some part of me asking if this is worth it and the other wondering what the hell I'm doing, asking that. My head falls against the back of the seat, and my migraine flares up for a moment in a fierce throb before settling to the bearable agony it's been for the past few hours.

What case is it that L needs my help with? It must be fairly important, I muse, since he's given me two years of radio silence and then doesn't even contact me directly when he does need to see me again, no matter the reason. I wish he just wanted to see me, for me, not my brain. And maybe it's childish and stupid, but I thought…

How I'm still in love with this asshole is a mystery I'll never solve, I conclude.

I remain seated, drifting in and out of consciousness for a while. A hand lands on my shoulder and I jump slightly. I open my eyes, then close them again and lift my hand, rubbing at them furiously. I looked right into the sun, and it was blinding. When I feel okay again, I turn and look at the man behind me. Quillish Wammy.

"Asashi Ratio-san," he greets neutrally, and I note the use of the alias I used during the case two years ago. Interesting.

"Watari," I murmur in reply, standing. He nods and turns away, walking to the place I assume the entrance is without another sound.

Wordlessly, I follow him, my suitcases clacking on the floor as I drag them along. We weave between people, and sometimes I lose sight of the elderly man, but he always comes back into sight within a minute. While we're walking, my mind turns back to the mystery case. I didn't even know that L was working at the moment, so it must be being kept under wraps. It's an interesting premise- there is a possibility of it being top secret, but a big deal. It makes my heart race. Whether it's from anticipation or fear I cannot say.

He leads me through the last of the security, and then through the entryway. A large parking lot is spread before us, and I can see many people moving in many directions around the vehicles. Watari ignores all of that and instead moves to a parking garage across the street. We weave our way through the lot to reach it, and once we reach the garage, Watari and I walk inside and there are more vehicles here. Watari ignores these as well and leads me to a set of stairs on the right, which we begin to climb.

We eventually make it to the car. It's a simple, unassuming vehicle that Watari leads me to, something that would be passed over by anyone. He unlocks it and gets into the driver's seat casually, gesturing for me to ride in the passenger's side. I slide into the seat after I toss my bags into the back, shutting the door after I pull my feet in. He pulls out of the parking spot, the garage, and then starts driving on the populated road.

I watch the city pass by as we go, leaning my elbow on the armrest and my head on my hand. I figure out we're in London as soon as I see the outline of Big Ben on the horizon. I say nothing and continue to stare outside, taking in the sights of the famous foreign city.

It's not like Tokyo, but it is, at the same time. Obviously, the people look different, with different clothes and behavioral patterns. The buildings look similar in some ways, but there is something more modern in England that is absent in my home country. I can see the cultural differences within the first few glances. The buildings have a sense of ancient nobility in an entirely different way than Japan. Also in the way people eat at the tables outside restaurants; hell, the tables themselves prove to be much more different. The whole city speaks of an ancient time long past, one I've only ever read about in storybooks. The color scheme of this grand, popular city is only reinforcing that. The history is Japan more oriental than the familial, royal past of England.

The city eventually fades away as we turn through it, reaching for its outskirts. Roads become less busy, and the amount of people on streets and sidewalks begins to dwindle. Houses replace shops and restaurants, and the skyscrapers blend into the horizon with the timekeeper of the capitol. The atmosphere becomes friendlier than the professionalism that is natural with cities.

Eventually, those, too, fade away. Watari turns onto a dirt road near the edges of the neighborhoods, and that road takes us far away. It has several twists and turns, around creeks and trees. There are roads that branch off of it, and occasionally, Watari will take one. I lose track of it after a while. Instead I focus on the greenery, the trees and bushes that we don't have back home. I never realized how much being in a different country would be like entering a different world.

I almost don't realize when we pull up to a large gate. It and the fence attached are painted black, the top of it an elaborate design of swirls and dips and curves that looks pretty and elegant, but is probably more for the prevention of climbing it than an aesthetic standpoint. Watari pulls up to the gate and I can see a code entering system briefly on the driver's side before Watari leans out the window and begins to fiddle with it.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up eerily, and I turn slowly to stare out the windshield and promptly jump out of my skin. A young boy, no older than ten, surely, is standing just inside the gate, dressed in white pajamas. He has white hair that he's twirling around his index finger, and he's staring right at me with dark eyes. He's still. Too still to be human, save for the continuous motions with his finger and wrist.

The gate groans and creaks open, and Watari leans back into the car, rolling up the window. He drives forward slowly, coming to a stop next to the albino child. He unlocks the car, and the child climbs into the back seat silently, my heart rate accelerating.

The door closes behind him, and a quiet voice says, "Thank you, Watari," from the back.

"You're welcome, Near," Watari responds, driving faster on the continued dirt road.

The rest of the ride is silent.

A large mansion appears gradually, blocked as it had been by a forest of trees. It's a grand structure, elegant in its simplicity. Written very plainly in its structure is the influence of various European countries. I can see five floors of windows, with about twenty-five windows per floor. The entire outside is painted white. The road turns to cobblestone when the last of the trees fade behind us, and a garden fit for the Queen lines it and the outer perimeter of the mansion. The entire display of colorful roses, tulips, and various small trees and bushes takes my breath away.

Watari pulls up in front of the door and unlocks the car. "I will park around the back," he says, "In the meantime, Raito-san, gather your things and wait in the foyer," he instructs.

Wordlessly, I do as he says, getting out of the car and opening the back door to get my things, realizing with a jolt that the child is gone. I look around, bewildered, and see him disappear into the building without a sound. I grab my bags and shut the door, the feeling of me losing my mind creeping around the edges of my consciousness. I'm left standing on the cobblestone alone as Watari pulls away.

I take a deep breath and pull up the handles on my suitcases, turning to face the house fully and I start walking up to it. There is a set of about fifteen stairs I have to climb to reach the door, but it's not much of a hassle. The largeness of the double doors in front of me makes me feel small, and I consider knocking. Part of me almost does, but the other part reasonably points out that I was invited inside already, so knocking would be pointless and the action would probably go unheard anyway.

So I open the door.

Much to my embarrassment, it takes a precious minute for me to actually pull it hard enough to get it to open. The damn thing is too heavy. How did that child manage? When I finally pull it open, it opens silently, gliding on a freshly polished marble floor. I step inside and pull my suitcases in behind me, leaning on the door to close it. After a moment of standing there, I turn to face what will probably be one of the grandest scenes I've ever encountered in my life.

I'm right.

The first thing my eyes land on is the staircase all the way in the back towards the left. It has the same polished floor as the foyer, and turns to the right to lead up another staircase that disappears from my sight due to the ceiling. The ceiling itself is amazingly simple. Some part of me had expected some elaborate paintings like the ones commonly seen in symphony halls or something similar to the Sistine ceiling. This ceiling, however, is simply dusted a faded gold, which reflects off the floor. The whole room looks like it is gold tinted, though I know that to be false. It looks as if the entire room was taken straight from an ancient Chinese palace.

I sigh heavily and scan the perimeter of the foyer, finding red upholstered chairs around circular tables in each corner. There is a hallway branching off the foyer to the left, and I can see that it splits in several different directions. I move to the left and sit down in a chair near the wall, feeling entirely overwhelmed. Who knew L lived in such splendor? From the way he behaves and the way he dresses, no one would guess.

I rub tiredly at my eyes and lean back, wondering vaguely how long it takes to park a car.

My train of thought is interrupted, however, by a loud scream coming from upstairs followed by some rather creative swearwords I didn't know previously in the English language. Footsteps pound on the stairs and someone slips into the foyer from the upstairs, promptly racing and sliding across the floor into a side room I hadn't noticed on the far right. They are followed by another, who races after the first figure with a clear murderous intent. I stand to help or stop the chance, but I'm stopped when the door opens behind me.

Watari steps in smoothly, the door closing behind him. He spots me in the corner of the room, looking like I'm about to run. He raises an eyebrow, and I rush to defend myself. "There were teenagers," I say, gesturing to the door where they disappeared, "and one looked like they were about to murder to the other, so I figured someone needs to stop them and I'm the only one around."

To my embarrassment, the man looks amused by my descriptions, instead of the alarm I had been expecting. "That happens far more often than you would think," he assures. "It's something you grow used to, living with a few dozen orphaned geniuses."

I jolt at the description, and my memory rewinds to the phone call I received last month, about L and the orphanage…

Watari smiles kindly, obviously knowing the reasons behind my sudden emotion. Then he looks stern, and warns, "That being said, it would be unwise to assist the children when they get rowdy like that. They, like you, are brilliantly minded people who can talk their way through most things. We have people trained to discipline them properly. And when I say we have the disciplinarians trained, I mean the children are trained to respond to these figures." He smiles amusedly and says; "I think you'll find even L responds to these people in a very similar way as the youngest child here does."

Intrigued, I open my mouth to ask questions, the first of those being, _where is L,_ when I am once again interrupted.

"Don't go making things up," a familiar voice says, and I turn around, my heart jumping into my throat at the sound I've been waiting to hear for two full years.

Emerging from the left hallway, the familiar figure slouches into the room, coming to a stop not far from where Watari and I are standing. All the way from his hair to the too-large clothes to the bare feet, everything is the same. He's wearing that stupidly plain white shirt and thick blue jeans that drop to his ankles, and there are neither shoes nor socks in sight. The same faint glimmer in his eyes, the same angle of his arms, the same skin tone. Everything matches the man in my memories of the Kira case two years ago.

Everything, that is, except the name.

 _Beyond Birthday_ is the name floating above the ruffled head of this figure. The bright red letters and the numbers below it reflect off the walls to my eyes only, staining the room red and gold with the reflective surfaces.

My guard goes up. Whoever this is, it's not L.

Beyond turns his head from Watari to face me, and there must be something in my gaze. He snickers under his breath, a sound entirely unlike L, and eases back into a more relaxed posture. With that single movement, he looks like a totally different person. A glint enters his eyes and it's not a very friendly one. "Nailed it, kid," he says conversationally, and his dark brown eyes bleed into a bright, brilliant red.

A familiar crimson I thought was mine, and mine alone. I can't help it. I scream.


	3. trois

Three hours later and my mind is still reeling.

Beyond laughed his ass off when I screamed, doubling over and gasping for breath. He obviously didn't hear Watari scolding him over the sound of his own laughter echoing off the walls, and the old man eventually gave up. I stared, wide-eyed, and when he eventually calmed, he explained that he was L's identical twin brother.

L's identical brother in looks only, I concluded. It was very clear they were nothing alike.

"I like jokes like that," he told me. "I can't tell you how many times I've sent these kids on wild goose chases, thinking that it was their idol talking to them. They figure it out eventually, and it's so funny when they do. They scream and cry like infants."

After Beyond was done laughing, Watari escorted me- with Beyond following behind us- to a room on the fifth floor, which was apparently a floor entirely off limits to the orphans. It houses the teachers and the caretakers, along with L, Beyond, Watari, and guests. I fall under the "Guests" category, and as such, I got an entire hallway to myself.

L lives in the east wing on the fifth floor. He's the only person with a wing to himself in the entire orphanage. Even Watari shares a select few halls with the head of the orphanage, Roger. Beyond tells me that L doesn't care for it, and frequently allows the top three children at the orphanage, Near, Mello, and Matt, to stay up in the wing with him when he's home. It's a privilege few experience, apparently.

Beyond lives in the small wing near L, a space not nearly as large or extravagant, but it suits Beyond for what he needs.

I'm staying on the other side of the building, in the west wing reserved for the guests. I'm the only one here, since they don't get many guests. According to Beyond, when they do, they are graduates from the school here, former residents of the orphanage. All of the alumni have come back at some point, but only L and Beyond took up a permanent residence. The rest have moved on and live in different parts of the world under different circumstances according to their job and preferences.

When I asked about the current residents, Beyond informed me of the way things were set up around the mansion. The first floor has things like a gymnasium, a cafeteria, kitchen, central hall, game room, music studio, and library. There are game courts around the back of the building for just about every sport from swimming to marching band. I asked about that, too, and Beyond had shrugged and said, "Since the children come from every corner of the world, we try to incorporate as many cultural aspects to this place as possible. It brings world knowledge to them, and some kids feel more at home when playing a sport or doing an activity or eating a food from their home country."

The other floors are separated between boarding and classrooms. The second, third, and forth floors all have frequently used classrooms in the west, and boarding rooms in the east. The second floor houses the children under the age of nine. The third floor has teenagers ages ten through seventeen, and the forth floor has students eighteen and older.

"So that's where I usually am," Beyond had told me, grinning. "Since we only have one student above the age of eighteen, he requested to stay with his roommate on the third floor, and L overrode Roger and allowed it. I think that's the only time L has ever used his authority here."

I used that opportunity to ask where L is, and Beyond's smile had faltered just slightly.

Alarmed, I pressed the question, and Beyond hushed me, saying, "L's just working on a case in Barcelona, of all places. He'll be back next week, but he wanted you to secure your position here a little, get used to it, and meet some people, before he threw everything on you. It'll be a culture shock, you'll feel jet lag soon, and I'm sure you have to readjust to being around people on your level."

Part of me wonders whether Beyond bullshittted his way through that explanation, but I know he probably didn't.

After that, Beyond left me alone in my hallway. I've since crashed in the bedroom, my bags on the floor and packed, while I threw myself on the bed and stared at the ceiling, my eyes blurring into their natural shade and relieving some of my headache. I pulled my music player out and turned it on low volume, and have been playing it ever since.

I blink lazily up at the ceiling, my stomach suddenly protesting loudly to the lack of food. I groan and sit up, looking over at the bedside table. The clock reads 7:44pm, and there's a note in front of it. I pick it up curiously, having not noticed it before, and realize that it's a printed schedule.

Schedule:

 _7-9am: Waking hours. Be sure to be up before 9am each day. Breakfast begins at 7:oo and ends at 9:oo. Most people eat about 8:oo._

 _Classes begin at 9am. They last for an hour a half. You are welcome to sit in on the classes whenever you choose, and participate if you like. At ten-thirty, there is a ten-minute break where people eat briefly._

 _2-4pm: Lunch hours. Depending on class schedules for students, they may have different lunch hours. Students receive a half hour for lunch before the next set of classes._

 _5-6pm, 8-9pm: Dinner hours. Class schedules vary but all are released by 8:oo pm._

 _9pm-11pm: Free time._

 _11:oo pm: All personnel: students, teachers, guests, caretakers, and other employees must be in their assigned rooms. Midnight is lights out, no exceptions._

 _*Note: All sports and "clubs" are included in student scheduling._

 _Holidays are announced a week before they take place, and schedules are released on the date of announcement._

Beneath all of that, much to my amusement, is a hand-written note in unfamiliar handwriting. It looks like calligraphy.

 _Do you see why I have nothing to do with scheduling and leave it to my secretaries?_

I laugh aloud, recognizing L's voice in the words. Grinning, I pocket the schedule and make my way down to the cafeteria.

I see several students along the way, all of them looking tired and relieved. They are chatting with their friends in several different languages. It's mystifying, seeing the mixes of English, Asian, Hispanic, Spanish, American, and Middle-Eastern, along with several more, all in one place. I don't believe I've ever encountered so many. Lots of them give me curious glances as I walk on the outside of their invisible space bubble, but they all seem friendly.

With them as my guide, I manage to find the cafeteria without a problem. It's a large room, I find, organized in a buffet style. Tables ranging from two-seaters to twenty-seaters are placed around the room. Several students are seated already, eating and chatting with other students. The tables are wood of some kind, with upholstered 5-star type restaurant chairs over a tiled granite floor. The walls around the cafeteria have artwork of all different kinds, blending culture, just as Beyond had said. The ceiling is high, with lights and fans hanging from the beams, along with the occasional plant.

I can smell the food from the buffet isles, and I turn to them curiously, observing the way the students, teachers, and caregivers move effortlessly around one another. Plates are stacked high on the right, next to several stacks of forks, spoons, knives, and napkins. The eating ware has to be the least extravagant thing I've seen so far: simple false sterling silverware, the plates white with a very plain blue edge. The napkins are recycled paper.

Everyone lines up on the right and grabs their plates, eating utensils, and napkins. Then I watch as they move through the buffet going through the food types. Cooks frequently appear from the back room and change out empty trays with full ones before disappearing back into the kitchen. I follow their example and take an empty table near the side of the room, picking absently at the food on my plate. I just picked the things I recognized from home and disappeared from the lines quickly.

I've never felt anxious around people like this. The Kira case was another scenario entirely. For once, I feel as if I need to impress these people. They're my peers- no, L's peers, his students, his extended family. I'm all but shaking with nerves.

Beyond materializes from nowhere and takes the seat across from me. His two plates are piled with food: meat of several different kinds and cooking styles, various pastas and vegetables, and the other plates is nothing but cherry-flavored desserts. He grins evilly at me and shoves the first plate between us, pulling a jar of strawberry jam from his pocket somewhere and dipping his fingers right into it. I watch, disgusted, as he drinks the jam right from the jar. He snickers when he finishes.

Gesturing to the plate, he says, "Eat. You need to experience culture, too." He smiles and pokes at a chicken leg, commenting, "And there really is nothing like American barbeque, though the Americans around here will argue that there's a difference between each type." He rolls his eyes and laughs. "Like I know the difference. Like I care."

I continue to stare; unable to believe that this man before me is related to the one I worked with two years ago. If it weren't for their undeniable resemblance, I would never have believed their relation.

Aside from their looks, the only thing I've noticed that the brothers have in common is their intelligence and their love of sweets.

I must have hesitated too long because Beyond looks up from his cheery foods and takes my original plate, throwing it onto a passerby's without looking at them. The teenager looks enraged before looking at Beyond. It is amazing how fast he quiets and slinks off.

I gape at Beyond, who laughs and shove the plate closer to me. "Fucking eat," he commands, and the tone is one that I've never heard. It's heavy and demanding, and something grips my heart in response. Without a word, appalled by my own behavior, I comply with his demand.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Two days pass. I come quickly to the conclusion that the workload expected of the children around here is damn near abusive. And when I mention this to Beyond, he looks confused. "No, it's not," he tells me, slowly. "Why would you say that? Did you learn differently?" he asks.

"Yes," I say, and he looks mystified, cocking his head to the side and putting his thumb in his mouth.

"Really," is his response, and I notice that it's not a question. I nod, and he bites hard on his thumb, absently licking away the blood that wells up as a result. "Interesting."

"Didn't you learn about the education systems of other countries?" I wonder aloud.

He shakes his head and straightens. "No," he says. "I'm a biologist," he elaborates at my confused look. "Most of the work I do has nothing at all to do with anything involving government or anything like it. That's my brother's stuff. He would've known that."

"Why biology?" I ask, leaning forward on the desk. We're in the library, during one of the morning class periods, so we're pretty much alone save from a young blond in the corner, up to his nose in books. Apparently that student is the second, Mello.

Beyond shrugs and stands up, moving over to a bookshelf not far from my current table. "I was a rash individual when I was younger," he tells me. "L can vouch for me on that one. He thought I was rather stupid, choosing a science major. He told me I wouldn't make the kind of money he was making, even back then." Beyond shrugs and pulls a book down, showing me the cover, _An Unnatural History of Emerging Infections_ by a Ron Barrett. "He was right, of course," Beyond continues, climbing back into his seat. "I'm fairly broke, compared to L. Plus I'm a felon, so that docks my paycheck a little bit…" he trails off and shrugs again, looking wholly unconcerned.

Once again I find myself rendered speechless by the man before me. He snickers and opens the book.

I shake my head and look back at the critical thinking study on the desk.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The day before L is supposed to return finds me in my assigned room, fingering the locket L had entrusted to me. I haven't removed it except to shower in two years. Losing it tomorrow is going to be like handing a part of me to him. I'm sure the sensation will be similar, if not exactly, to how he felt when he tossed it to me back when the case ended. I sigh and roll onto my side, staring out the window.

I can see the road Watari and I had ridden on to get here. I blink and groan, pressing my face into the pillow. I wonder, distantly, if Beyond, too, gets these unbearable migraines or if he experiences something different and this bane is mine alone. I make a mental note to ask him about it later.

Even from this distance, I can hear the gate creaking open, and I sit up and look blearily out the window again, narrowing my eyes. I can barely make out a dark car pulling up to the mansion. A familiar figure steps out of the car, looking around.

It isn't L.

It's my father.

Eyes wide, I stare at the rest of the Task Force that emerges from the limousine with curious looks and wary postures.

A woman moves forward to greet them. Dressed in a black swing dress and holding a parasol, she manages to balance easily on black high heels. She shakes the hand of each Task Force member, and something about the way she holds herself is very familiar, even though I am certain I've never seen her before.

She gestures to the door, and the Task Force grabs their suitcases from the trunk of the car and move out of my line of sight.

The woman turns and meets my eyes. She smirks. I suddenly feel very stupid, which is a new feeling.

The woman is in fact Beyond Birthday.


	4. quatre

Instead of greeting my coworkers, I remain upstairs in my bedroom, thoughts turning.

To call the Task Force must mean this case is so much bigger than I thought. It is on the scale of the Kira Case, but how that can be when apparently no one knows anything about it, I have no idea. I've asked Watari and Beyond, Roger and even Near, when I came into contact with the latter two in a hallway the day before. Watari clearly knows something, but he isn't telling. Beyond had shrugged and changed the subject, which leads me to believe that he might have some idea, even if the information he does have is very little. He's not talking, either, though, much to my frustration. Roger had clearly not been told anything, and Near even less.

Running my hand through my hair, I sigh, and my hand returns to my side. I glance around the painfully impersonal, unfamiliar room, uncertain. There is nothing I can do until tomorrow, when L comes back.

If this is always what it's like, I do not want to work for L. The stress is unreal.

Voices echo across the hall, and I shift my gaze to my door. I recognize Beyond's voice, and that of my father and the other Task Force members. They each get their own hallway near mine; my father's being right next to me.

Giving myself no time to think about it, I open my door and walk down the hallway, right into the midst of the Task Force. Beyond abruptly shuts up and glares at me, while the rest of the Task Force stares openly at me. "In my defense," I say conversationally, "I didn't know about this either."

"Ratio!" my father suddenly finds his voice. It's a tone of surprise, and I can hear the faintest trace of disapproval, too. A rush of annoyance runs through me, and but I keep my face neutral and friendly. What does he think I am? I'm not a teenager, anymore.

"Dad," I greet, smiling at him winningly. He doesn't buy it, but I wouldn't, either.

"Why are you here?" Matsuda asks excitedly. "Did you know that L grew up here?"

I turn to face the other officer and nod, already sick of his bubbly attitude. "I did," I agree, and gesture to Beyond, who catches on real quick to what I'm about to say and starts shaking his head. "And did you that this is L's twin brother?"

"Fuck you," is Beyond's immediate response.

My father looks outraged, unaccustomed to such language, but I merely turn away from Beyond and face the Task Force. "When did L call you in?" I ask conversationally, ignoring Beyond's indignant spluttering behind me.

"About three days ago," Aizawa tells me. "We all received an untraceable phone call and plane tickets the next morning for yesterday's evening flight. It was very sudden."

I nod. "I got the call and the ticket about a month before the plane was scheduled to leave. I got here on a morning flight a few days ago."

"You didn't say anything," my father accuses.

I shrug. "I told mom I was going on vacation and I handed you the release papers. You signed them. It's not my fault you didn't look at what you were signing," I defend.

My father looks ready to argue with me some more, but Beyond cuts into the conversation, looking murderous. "Raito, I would advice you to go back to your rooms. This doesn't concern you. You weren't even supposed to know about this until L returns tomorrow night. Go. Now," Beyond commands.

I glare at him. "It doesn't concern me that my father and coworkers are working on this mystery case, too?" I question, annoyed. "That's stupid."

"I don't care what you think," Beyond says harshly, and gives me a shove. I stumble backward, surprised. My father grabs Beyond's shoulder but the younger man turns quickly and strikes my father across the face. The resulting sound echoes through the hallway, and everyone is openly gaping at L's brother, who looks unruffled. There's a bright red mark on my father's face in the form of a handprint, and my father looks too stunned to do anything about it. Beyond's face curls into a sadistic smirk, and I can suddenly connect the image of Beyond with that of a felon. Something has Beyond in a mood today and it's not a good one. "In fact, you can all head to your rooms. Someone else can show you around," he snarls, and storms off. In any other situation, it would be amusing to watch a grown man stomp off in high heels and a dress with a parasol, but somehow the outfit makes the whole scene more sinister.

A moment passes and Matsuda timidly asks, "Is he always like that?"

Still staring after Beyond, I answer, "No. He's usually a very interesting person to be around. Something's got him tweaked badly," I say slowly.

"Maybe he resents L," Matsuda suggests, and everyone turns to face him. He shrugs, curling in on himself slightly. "Wouldn't you, if your brother was the most successful detective in the world and you were stuck at home?"

"He made his choices," I say. "He's a biologist and a felon. He should be in a jail in the USA right now apparently, but L paid what I heard was a hundred thousand dollar bail."

The Task Force looks mildly horrified. I don't blame them. That's a lot of money, and for it to have reached that much meant that Beyond had done something truly horrible.

At first I was surprised that Kira didn't get him, but then it occurred to me that L had probably erased all records of his brother after he paid the bail.

My father claps his hands. "Well," he says, and I can hear that the cheerfulness in his voice is forced. "We're all tired, so I think we'll follow that man's orders and head to our rooms." He turns to me and questions, "What's his name, son?"

"Beyond Birthday," I answer.

"Sounds like something from a horror movie," Matsuda says quietly, and Aizawa and Mogi nod in agreement behind him.

I shrug. "This whole place is pretty freaky when you get used to it. They are an interesting bunch of people, and looking at them, sometimes I think that L is not so strange after all."

All of them are silent, and then my father announces, "I really don't know what to say about that." The Task Force mutters their agreement, and we part ways.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

I'm not immediately aware when L returns. I'm sitting in my assigned room, reading one of the books from the library downstairs with my music turned up loud in my ears. I don't hear the knock on my door, nor do I hear the door open and someone walk into the room and shut it behind them.

I jump when one of my ear buds is yanked from my ear, and I turn quickly to give Beyond a piece of my mind because he's done that once before, but the breath leaves my lungs when I see the name _L Lawliet_ in bold red letters above the man's head. He looks just like his brother, even now.

He stares quietly at me for a moment, obviously taking in my more grown-up appearance. I am not the same teenager he left behind, not entirely. I've become more open and I'm freer than I used to be. The last of the baby fat left my face, outlining my jaw, my cheekbones, and my eye sockets. My eyes are not currently covered by the amber shade.

"Yagami Raito," he murmurs. "It has been a long time."

I snap from my trance and my gaze hardens. I'm suddenly reminded that he left and I got no word from him for two years. I shouldn't have expected any, but it was a disappointment all the same. He obviously notices my change in mindset and he steps back, my ear bud falling from his lax fingers. He holds his hands up beside his head. "I wrote," he says. "But I burned the letters."

"Why?"

He shrugs. "Nothing felt right. Before I knew it, two years passed. But when this case came up, I knew it was the perfect opportunity."

A crease forms between my eyebrows as they draw together. "What?"

He suddenly looks annoyed. "You're not stupid. You know what."

"I want to hear you say it."

"No." He blatantly refuses, and I roll my eyes.

This isn't anything like what I imagined it would be. Some part of me wanted something like this, but another part expected something more. What, exactly, I can't say.

I'm lying to myself. I want him to kiss me again, like he did before. One look in his eyes and I know that it isn't going to happen. Two years, and he's rebuilt his guard. I inwardly sigh in disappointment. None of the other girls or boys I've gone out with- I say gone out with, but really they were one-night stands- have been the same, and I want to feel that rush again.

I change the subject by waving my hand around. "So what exactly is this place?" I ask.

He shrugs and perches himself on the bed, the same way he used to sit. I want to laugh. He should be about twenty-seven now, and he still sits like a child. Some things will never change, and for that, I'm glad. I had feared, somewhere, that the Kira case had changed more of him than I. His last appearance when he kissed me and gave me the locket showed me an entirely different person than who I was used to.

"It's my home," he says, looking around. "I've never actually been in this room before, but Beyond told me where you were." He glances at me, then, "What did you do to piss him off? He seems really volatile right now."

Indignant, I exclaim, "It wasn't me!" and L grins slightly.

"No, no," he reassures. "I know. It was probably the children or some failed experiment or something. Knowing him, it was both within the hour." He shakes his head. "My brother is such a fool. I don't know why I didn't just let him rot in jail. He certainly deserves it."

His thumb makes its way to his mouth while I stare at him. Why does everyone seem capable of surprising me somehow lately? It's getting obnoxious. "What did he do?" I ask. I'm almost afraid of the answer. I've been wondering about it since yesterday.

L stares at me like he's weighing my trustworthiness. Then he shrugs. It looks forced. "He's a murderer. He did it to prove a point."

I open my mouth, a thousand questions on my tongue, but L shakes his head. "It's done now. He's under house arrest. If he hurts any of the children, staff, or guests, I'll shoot him myself. He knows it. The worst he can get away with is slapping someone." He seizes me up, then asks, "He hasn't hit anyone, has he?"

"My father, yesterday," I tell him, and L scowls.

"I'll deal with him later," L promises. "In the meantime, I do need to greet many more people, namely the Task Force and the triplets from hell." He grins at me, standing.

"The triplets from hell?" I repeat, laughing inwardly.

"Have you met them? Near, Mello, and Matt."

"I've met Near, seen Mello, and have never come across Matt," I reply.

L nods. "That doesn't surprise me. Near probably wanted to get a feel for who was coming into his home, and I'm certain you saw Mello in the library. Matt doesn't usually even leave his room unless he's starving; even then, it's usually after hours."

L is by the door now, hand on the doorknob. "I'll call you and the Task Force for dinner later, and I'll introduce you properly to those three. Until then," he nods, and moves to shuffle out of the room, but I call him back.

"Don't you want this?" I ask, reaching for the locket. L eyes it for a moment, an unreadable look on his face.

He shakes his head. "I'll get it from you later," he says, and then he's gone.

I stare at my door. I don't know what to think.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Sure enough, L stays true to his word, and I get a student at my door with a note from L requesting my presence in his wing at 8:oo. I nod and thank her, and she smiles timidly at me and scampers off.

The clock reads 7:31.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

There's a knock on the door, and L swallows his cake, places the plate on the desk beside him and calls, "Come in."

The Task Force and I watch as a blond figure blurs into the room and collides with L, hugging him tightly. I blink in amazement, staring at the leather-clad teenager. L pats the boy's back and he steps back, grinning brilliantly. "Welcome back," the teen I recognize as Mello greets cheerfully.

 _Mihael Keehl_ is the name above Mello's head. The albino boy steps forward and nods at L while Mello scowls at him, and the albino's name is _Nate River_. I glance around for the third boy who's supposed to be here, and see him lingering by the door. I catch sight of him and my mind blanks for a moment before memory kicks in. I've seen this one around the orphanage in seemingly random places before. A red head, the boy wears goggles over his eyes, and has a fur vest over a striped black and white shirt that covers the top portion of his jeans, torn at the knee, completed with boots. It's quite an outfit, but for some reason, he never struck me as anyone I should pay attention to. Looking at him now, I see that I was wrong. _Mail Jeevas_ shines brightly over his head.

"Matt," Mello suddenly barks, and the red head turns to look at the blond, humming in acknowledgment. "What are you doing, you idiot?" Mello demands.

L looks like he going to scold Mello, which is amusing on its own, but Matt shrugs. "Welcome back, L," Matt says.

For some reason, this hadn't connected, but it connects in this moment. Matt spoke to me on the phone. I'm willing to bet that this boy is the one who is over eighteen. I'm also willing to guess that he's hiding something from everyone, including L.

Matt glances over at me briefly, just as L nods at him. "Thank you," is all L says.

There's a lull in conversation as everyone eats. I do so mechanically, distantly. Why the boys are here, I don't know. The entire setting here just seems off somehow. False and unsettling.

"Well," L says, when we're all about finished. Automatically, I straighten, eyes locked on L, and I hear a snicker behind me.

Mello snorts when I turn to glare at him.

I turn back around and look at L, who's looking through some files on the computer. "Matt, if you would…" L says absently, and Matt moves to the wall and grabs a string that's hanging from the ceiling. Pulling it to the floor reveals a screen, and L clicks a button on a remote. Immediately, the picture of what looks like a massacre replaces the cream-colored fabric.

There's blood everywhere, and even without my eyes telling me so I would know without a doubt that the people are dead. Some of them aren't even whole anymore, parts of the bodies missing from the rest. Some lay against trees, others on a sidewalk, and the last of them piled in the center of the picture in a heap similar to the pictures of people killed by the Nazis during the Second World War. Red streaks coat the ground and the sides of the pine trees. Needles from the pines are stuck in some of the victims' skin and eye sockets.

"What you're looking at," L announces after a moment, and everyone turns to stare at him. He squirms in his chair and repeats, "What you are looking at is a murder scene not far from a bombing site along the borders of Canada and Alaska, USA. Several more like this have formed a straight line heading south. They stopped just before they hit Idaho, USA, and then they resumed north farther inland in Canada."

L clicks his remote and the picture changes to a map of the United States and Canada. It's an odd place to start bombing, since Canada doesn't usually have much to do with the rest of the world's affairs. Canadians are a fairly quiet bunch overall, from what I understand. So why Canada?

The picture shows a bunch of red marks going in the direction that L described. There are seven marks total, six marks in one line and another mark branching off of the line. Some of the marks are in the middle of the Rocky Mountains, and not on any city or even small town. That rules out that this attack is a personal one to Canada or an attack on just the people. This is a much bigger type of case, though what kind, I can't be certain.

"Please don't let this be another Kira," Matsuda says, staring.

We all pause and look at him. "This is a bomb and massacre case, not a serial killer," my father explains, but Matsuda shakes his head.

"Don't you see that the shape of the red marks is beginning to form the English capital letter K?" Matsuda defends, gesturing.

L stares for a moment, and then says, "Perhaps we'll wait a bit longer to establish that, but we will keep that in mind.

"Now, I believe that these bombings are connected to another set," L says, clicking the remote, "in southern Australia."

A map of Australia comes up on the screen, red marks also in a straight line on the eastern border.

"So you think this is a bombing of the entire world, not just Canada and the United States?" Aizawa clarifies, and L nods.

"Given the shape and timing of the scenes, yes, I believe so."

"How fast did all of this happen?" My father asks.

L shakes his head. "Not very quickly at all. The first one, apparently, happened in the middle of the Kira case two years ago. Each bombing has been given a sufficient amount of time to fade in the backgrounds of people's minds, so to speak, before another strikes. Also, the crime scenes don't always take place in a line. When looking at it before two weeks ago, government officials thought they were a random, unconnected string. They called me in two months ago when it reached five bombings, just in case."

"So what do you want from us, L?" Near asks in that soft, melodic voice of his. It grates on my eardrums.

L gestures vaguely. "You can help with the case if you want to. I have a good amount of assistance with the Task Force, however, I know you want to get a taste of the real world cases without them already having been solved."

Mello smirks. "I won't let you down," he promises.

Silently, I make the same promise.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

L dismisses us not long after, and I slink back to my room, letting go of my control over my eye color. My head pounds and I want to scream.

I stumble into my room seemingly by chance, falling onto the bed and curling up on the soft cover and pillows. I take a few deep breaths, wondering vaguely where I put my medication. I could really use it right now.

A painful throb interrupts my train of thought. Pressing my face into my pillow, I take a few deep breaths, feeling the pillowcase heat up under my breath. One would think that these would've stopped after I relieved some of my stresses, but they're as bad as they ever were.

"You can't do this, I've said so before."

Blearily, I look up and frown. That sounds like Beyond.

"And what say do you have in my life? I do as I please."

L. I sit up quickly and regret it, cursing the Shinigami for my curse and my curse for causing problems when I need to be the most clear-headed. They're close, I can hear that much. How close, though, is hard to tell. Sounds are a bit distorted, which wouldn't be a problem if I didn't need them. Growling softly under my breath, I scramble from my bed, my heart pounding, and stumble into the door, taking great care not to make much noise. I don't know how successful I am, but no one gives any indication of alarm, so I figure that I must be safe.

"Please, I know," Beyond scoffs. "But you're making a mistake."

"A mistake? How can this be a mistake?"

There's silence for a moment. Then, "I've told you before that stringing this boy along- and he is a boy, brother, don't deny it- will only lead to a great deal of trouble. He's too much like Avery was for me to sit by and let you do this."

"Oh, and how, pray tell, is Yagami Raito anything like Avery?"

"Both of them are unstable, L. Yagami didn't turn out to be a serial killer, but he's just like me, and you know how I got away from this curse."

"How you tried to get away, Beyond. Besides, you had a suicidal lover and a broken family and a brother who was running away from you. I don't blame you for snapping and killing over a hundred people, but don't make the mistake of believing that Raito-kun is anything like you or Avery. He bears the pain."

"What bloody pain?" Beyond shouts.

"You gave into cruelty. Avery committed suicide. Raito-kun refuses to let this beat him. I watched him, Beyond, you have no idea- he withstood so much over the course of the Kira case while under the effects of crippling migraines."

"And what is a migraine compared to the gift of seeing the who and the when? Nothing. It is nothing, brother. If you're seeking sympathy from me for the brat, you will never find it."

"Then why are you interfering with this?"

"You're a right bastard, L. No one deserves that, not even self-centered, arrogant, pitiful, cursed brats from the superstitious Japanese island."

"And you call me the bastard."

"Yeah. I can call upon many who would agree with me, too."

L's silent. Beyond's voice cries out in anger after a full minute of no words exchanged. "Don't walk away from me, you bastard!" The words grow quieter as the sentence moves forward. What I wouldn't give to have seen what they were doing.

I lean my head on the wall behind me. Who the hell is Avery? What does he have to do with me, if he's long dead? And Beyond… apparently I will not find an ally within him.

It hurts more than I thought it would.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

L sits heavily in the chair across from me at dinner three nights later. I look up and watch him violently take apart the cake on his plate, not saying a word. I cock my head to the side and read the tension in his muscles, in his every movement. "Something wrong?" I ask quietly.

The older man freezes for a second. To anyone else, he might not have paused at all. "No," L denies; it's obvious he's lying.

I grit my teeth and look around. Unfamiliar faces surround me. The Task Force and Beyond are nowhere to be found. L is the only one in the dining hall I know, and it's quite clear that he has no intention of speaking to me. Huffing quietly under my breath, I return to my food and keep flicking gazes to L occasionally. He continues his abusive beatings of the chocolate cake, oblivious.

"Who's Avery?" The question is out before I can censor it. I regret it immediately, because L's head shoots up to stare at me, and a flash of anger darts through his eyes. The only times I act like my mother is when I put my foot in my mouth and say things without thinking. Fuck it all.

"What?" he asks. It's a quiet word, and for a moment I can believe that he and Beyond are really brothers. Did their violent nature come from their parents?

Casting the question from my mind to dwell on later, I repeat, "Who's Avery?"

L's gaze is unreadable. Tension lines his body, and his jaw is tight. Slowly, he lowers his fork and looks away, eyes flashing over the cafeteria before resettling on me. "Come with me," he instructs, standing.

I scramble to do the same, nearly tripping myself as L stalks away, stonily silent. He attracts a few stares, but the children all turn away after a moment as if used to such behavior from the twins. I know from my limited experience in dealing with Beyond that he does this often.

L leads me to the elevator and presses the button, his hands returning to their customary position in his pockets, his shoulders falling forward in his typical lazy posturing. Still, he doesn't say a word, not even when the doors open and I proceed after him into the small space and the doors lock us inside. I wait next to him anxiously, and I find myself counting down seconds according to L's numbers in my impatience.

The doors slide open and we turn to the left and walk down that hallway. I've been here once before, when L had been explaining the case. He's guiding me to his private rooms.

He approaches a door on the left and palms the lock. It clicks open with a hiss, the door swinging slightly into the room. He pushes it all the way open and allows me inside. I take his unspoken invitation and glance around the room. It's very plain, with only a couple of small picture frames on the computer desk on the far side of the room for visible personal effects. A large bed is on the other side of the room, and there's a door on the wall next to it branching off into a bathroom with a closet attached. L's bedroom.

I wish I were here under more favorable circumstances. My thoughts turn briefly to my fantasies of the first time I would find myself in L's bedroom, and not one of them had included being guided there because I had asked a very obviously personal question and stepped on a nerve. I kick myself inwardly and curse my increasingly slim chances.

"Raito-kun."

I jump, my eyes meeting L's reflexively for only a fraction of a second before my gaze skitters to the side. I can hear him sigh. "Here," L says, and he hands me one of the picture frames from his desk.

I glance at him curiously before I focus on the object in my hands. I recognize the grand orphanage in the background, surrounded by murky gray skies that are very common in England. The gardens are a bit less grown in the photo, a little less vibrant. I turn my sights to the three figures sitting closely together on the stairs of the orphanage. The two on the left of the picture look exactly alike except for their clothing, and it takes me a minute to recognize L and Beyond. They're older here than in the picture in the locket around my neck, but still younger than they were when I met L. I would guess they were about ten to thirteen years old, as is the third boy in the photo.

Blond, the boy is the complete color opposite of the twin brothers. He has light blue eyes and pale skin. Like L and Beyond, he's wearing clothing typical of the 1980's in England. He looks happy in the picture, but I can recognize the signs of depression when I see them. It's in his eyes, in his posture.

 _Avery committed suicide._

L's words in the hallway come back to me suddenly. I jolt, a gasp shuddering from my lips, and the picture falls from my hands. It hits the floor and would have shattered the glass of the frame had it not been carpeted.

L leans down and lifts it from the floor, holding it tightly with one hand as he stares at it. He looks up and I glance in his direction, avoiding his eyes. L looks once more at the photo before gesturing to me to follow. He doesn't go far, just settles himself on his bed, and after a moment's hesitation, I do the same.

"We were thirteen," L says, quietly, "and I was third place in the ranking system here at the orphanage's school. Beyond was second, and Avery was first. We were three of maybe twenty kids at the orphanage, total. It had been a new building at the time, opened only eight years before. Because this is an orphanage for genius children, it was difficult to find occupants.

"The three of us took this picture after a year of being friends." L smiles, small and sad, shrugging slightly at the end of this statement before he moves on. "The following week, Beyond took first. Avery was here before we were, and had held that position since the orphanage opened. Losing it had been like losing a part of himself.

"Two years passed, during which Avery started being more than a little self destructive. To appease him, I stopped trying on everything, and my grades began to fall. I dropped to fifteenth place not long after Beyond took first. While my scores fluctuated, Beyond's remained steady and Avery never managed to regain what he had lost, and was knocked to third by Celine later that year.

"Despite that, he forgave Beyond. So much so that I caught them kissing in the broom closet when we were fifteen. They stopped hiding their relationship after that, at least around me."

L looks at me now, face serious. "You have to understand, I was a serious idiot when I was fifteen, Raito-kun. Watari had recognized my potential when I was really young- I believe I was about eight. I started my career then. I was already well established, but it was a secret. This orphanage is known to the occupants to be my base of operations, but it hadn't always been so. When I found out that my two closest friends had found, ah, happiness, with each other- well. I would call it jealously, and it stung really badly.

"I stopped holding back. I took first place and I think that pushed Avery over the edge. I found him in the bathtub in his room not long after with an apology written in blood on the tiled wall. Beyond ran away that night. I didn't hear from my brother for another four years. He turned up in the States as a murderer." L sighs, eyelids fluttering. "I tipped the scales because of pettiness," he murmurs, low enough that I have to strain to hear it.

I open my mouth, but he holds up a hand. "Leave," he says, and I'm left without a choice.

I get up and walk out the door. Before it shuts behind me, I see L curl up around the pillows on the top of the bed, eyes closed.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

 _Dear Mom, Sayu,_

 _It's been a while. I'm sorry about not contacting you sooner, but I have been quite busy lately. This vacation has turned more into a business trip than anything for my enjoyment._

 _I'm in England right now, in a small area just outside of Winchester. I don't know exact coordinates. Sometime soon, I'll make sure to step into London and send you something, but I'm afraid this letter will have to suffice for now._

 _I apologize for the ancient communication method, Sayu. I'm working on a different time zone now, so I don't want to slip up and forget that, however unlikely that may be. There's not much in the way of service out here in the middle of nowhere anyway._

 _Dad and a few of the others from work arrived out here a few days ago. Hope you girls are doing all right._

 _Love,_

 _Raito_

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

A bouncy ball turned up in my room yesterday.

Living- however temporarily- in an orphanage, I should have expected it sooner.

No child has come knocking to get it, so I've been sitting on the floor, leaning on the bed frame, and throwing the red ball at the wall for the past hour. I've had the same song on replay for the entire time.

There have been no developments in the case. I haven't seen L in two weeks since I asked about Avery. Beyond is being an asshole. The Task Force usually avoids me at work, and their behavior hasn't ceased because we're in England.

Needless to say, I'm bored out of my mind. Groaning loudly, I rip my ear buds out of my ears and fling the ball away from me. A second later I realize my mistake, but it's too late and the window breaks as the ball flies outside.

I bury my face in my hands and some kid shrieks. Alarmed, I shoot up and stalk over to the window, looking down. Six kids are staring up at me, clearly annoyed, but thankfully unhurt. I wave, grinning sheepishly, and they run off.

With a sigh more dramatic than the situation probably warrants, I fling myself on the bed and think about how I'm supposed to tell L I broke his window with a bouncy ball.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"You broke a window?"

My father's voice comes out of nowhere and I jump inwardly, wondering how he heard about that. It was only an hour ago, after all. I glance back at him, seeing how he looks more than a little annoyed. His arms are crossed across his chest, and some instinctual part of me recognizes that my parent is upset with me and curls up in apology. The rest of me decides to beat that part with a stick. The last time he was this mad at me, it was because I hit Sayu in the nose when I was twelve. "It was an accident," I say, and my father rolls his eyes and sinks into the seat across from me.

We're in the library. He picks up one of the books I have spread out around me- _A History of the World in 100 Weapons_ by Chris McNab is one. I've been trying to research bomb types for the case, among other things, and kind of grabbed random things from a few shelves. It's not like I have anything better to do, I think sourly, eyeing the book in my father's hand. "Raito," he says, and I hum in response. "Are you all right?"

Didn't we have this conversation a month and half ago? "I'm fine," I tell him, taking great care to keep the irritation out of my voice.

"Not from what I've heard lately," is my father's quick retort.

"What have you been hearing?" I question, running back over my behavior in the last several months.

"A speeding ticket in July, you were late in paying your bills in September, your mother and I have never seen you go out with friends or have any kind of a relationship since you were in your first year in high school, you haven't had a long conversation with Sayu for six years, and since the Kira case you've hardly left the house except for work. I'm worried, Raito."

Ah. Those things. I wasn't aware my father new about all of that. I blink. Where exactly did he hear about them?

Slightly floored and more than ready to back out of this conversation, I rattle off excuses for each one of those instances, "The sign that had the speed limit was hidden by the trees, the bills ran late in the mail, people are either too stupid or too uninteresting for me to pursue them, Sayu isn't exactly comfortable talking to me since I'm so much smarter than her, and why would I have any reason to leave the house?" I hope my dad catches onto the fact that that was a rhetorical question, but since he never has before, I wonder, briefly, why I still hold out hope.

He throws his hands up and shakes his head. "I don't know, Raito- maybe to try and find some decent friends?"

I'm about five seconds away from slamming my head on the wall.

I shake my head and gather some books into my arms. "No, thank you," is all I can say. I walk out of the library and don't look back.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

There's a knock on my door.

Confused, I glance up from my book, pulling my headphones out of my ears- the music was on low so as not to aggravate the migraine that's been building since lunch- and slide my bookmark between the pages. A quick look at the clock reveals that it's nearly lights-out. Inwardly sighing, I get up and walk over to the door, pulling it open when I'm in range. A familiar figure is standing at my door.

I've only spoken to Matt once. "Hey," he says, and meanders into my room without any concern as to whether or not I might want him in here. Glaring, I turn to face him, my hand on the doorknob still, and watch as he makes himself comfortable on my bed.

"What are you doing?" I ask, more curious than angry, but I need to keep up appearances.

He shrugs and starts fiddling with a piece of computer equipment he pulls from his pocket. "Thought you might be interested to know that there's been two more bombings," he says conversationally.

" _What?_ "

Once more, he shrugs, and I start to get the idea that he really doesn't care one way or the other about the case. "Happened this morning, apparently. One in Australia, the other in Idaho. Local authorities had to deal with it before they had a chance to contact us."

I stare at him. "What's L doing about it?"

Matt flicks a glance at me, and then his focus zeros in onto the equipment in his hands, tweaking things before he answers. "Holding a meeting in twenty minutes." He glances around and then snickers. "Was that your fault or some kid's?" he asks, amused.

I decide to ignore that.

The familiar feeling of frustration and despair that usually appears when I have to deal with people starts to rear its head. This kid may be the third smartest in this school, but he seriously has to learn how to deal with social interaction. He's so irritatingly nonchalant and clearly not trained on how to deal with situations.

"Let's go, then," I say tiredly. He gets up and follows me out of the room without a word.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"What happened?" my father demands, storming into the room. L jumps when his door hits the wall in Soichiro's haste.

"What are we doing about this?" Aizawa adds, sounding hurried.

"How many are dead?" Matsuda questions.

L holds up his hands, but the Task Force is speculating amongst themselves and not paying the detective any attention. Mello snarls quietly from his place next to me, then lets out a piercing whistle that has everyone's heads turning. "Maybe if you all would shut up, you'd get your fucking answers," Mello snips at them.

"Language, Mello," L sighs. Clearly he's tired of saying it. "To answer your questions," he directs this at the Task Force, "There were two more bombings. I have already been contacted by the leaders of the USA and of Australia, and they want me to send people to investigate the scenes and see what I can find."

"Who have you sent?" Near asks, leaning forward and peering closely at L, his finger rapidly spinning a thin lock of snow-white hair.

"No one, as of yet. I was considering that the Task Force would go to one location, and the kids and I would go to another," L leans toward his computer as he says this, examining something. "Raito-kun, you are free to choose which scene you would like to see," he adds, like an afterthought.

Even if it's only for a second, it feels like everyone is staring at me. Mello, Matt, and Near only cast me disinterested glances, but the Task Force's gazes linger. I shrink under their gazes inwardly, but only stare determinedly at L. He flicks a glance at me from the corner of his eye before he returns to the computer screen, but that's better than nothing.

I feel like such a fool half the time and an ass the other half. How does he do this to me?

"I want to go to the US," Matt speaks, and L turns around fully. He doesn't seem the least bit surprised. I am, however, and turn a curious eye onto him, but he ignores me.

Slowly, L nods. "That's acceptable," he replies, and then spins in his chair- like a fucking five-year old- to press on an intercom. "Watari, arrange the appropriate arrangements."

"Yes, sir," Watari's voice sounds through the speaker a moment later, and L pulls back, apparently satisfied.

"You are dismissed. Your tickets will be sent to your rooms tonight and we leave at five tomorrow morning," L instructs.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Later that evening, I walk to L's room with my ticket in hand. "I don't recall telling you that I wouldn't be going with the Task Force," I say in lieu of a greeting as soon as I fling his door open.

L doesn't even turn around to face me. "Based on the uneasy relationship you have with them, I assumed you would rather get away from that for a some time instead of willingly dealing with it," he returns, plucking a strawberry from the bowl on his desk.

"Uneasy relationship?" I repeat. I suppose that's not entirely untrue, but I would still have preferred to be with them, regardless of their opinions of me, than with some volatile teenagers who've never seen a crime scene and the even more uneasy relationship with L.

He hums in reply. "From what I've seen, and heard, your easy acquaintanceships with your coworkers ended after the Kira case and have been strictly professional ever since."

That's not untrue either, but I had been avoiding that. I take a deep breath and slam the ticket down on the table. "Does that matter?"

Finally, he decides to look at me, flipping over a piece of paper on his desk. "I will not rearrange your ticket," he says softly, like it wasn't an argument and like he wasn't telling me that I have no free will to choose on my own despite the fact that he told me I could. Anger wells up inside me and I let out a snarl.

There's a hard nudge at my back and I turn around, eyes wide, anger inside me so white hot and burning. Beyond nods to the door. I look back at L and he has returned to the documents open on his computer, a fork in his hand and his lip between his teeth. My heart locks on the image and my anger flares higher.

I stalk out of the room and take care to slam the door behind me.

I walk brusquely down the hall, heading back to my rooms, my teeth hurting in my mouth as I'm biting and grinding them. When did my life turn into this? I wonder. I'm in love with someone that clearly wants to forget everything and-

I lean on a wall, the air empty around me and my anger shimmering from existence like water in a hot spring. The faded gold-brown of the walls is all consuming, and the patterned carpet provides the illusion of hospitality. I stare at the crack in the picture; small evidence of the building's age that is displayed where the wall meets the floor. It's an age old tale, I figure, the one where the playboy moves on too quickly and the ones he leaves behind are nothing more than broken dolls in a playhouse. I stylized a fairytale in my head of the stunningly intelligent gentleman who saved my life and left me with his most prized possession to go somewhere I can never follow. I built a story, a person that evidently doesn't exist.

 _"I do have a personality beyond the facade I put up for cases, you know."_

What am I really doing here?

Chasing a ghost, I suppose, resuming my walk. I stuff my hands into my pockets and bow my head.

I never usually fall in love; never get close enough to someone to form that kind of attachment. And now I remember why.

It's impossible to avoid disappointment. Because everyone always lets you down. And nothing ends cleanly. There's always the unexpected curve; the painful withdrawal that feels like your life has been torn out from underneath you, and now you're falling, and no one is there to catch you. They will save themselves, but you can't...

Beyond got hurt like that when Avery committed suicide. Avery got hurt like that when L betrayed him. My sister got hurt like that when she felt like dying and her best friend couldn't handle it. I got hurt like that when my parents told me I needed to grow up and make something of myself; to not burden my family anymore with my meaningless complaints and weakness.

I don't know why I forgot that lesson. It keeps happening around me, and I somehow never noticed.

I resolve to change that.

I open my door.


	5. cinq

_Certainly shorter than the last chapter, but I honestly had run away with that one, and it likely should have been cut earlier. Whatever. This one is a filler chapter, without a doubt, and those are the most horrific to write, hence the wait. I've been slamming my head against the wall trying to find a good place to cut this without it being like 500 words, which would suck. Fortunately, the way I ended it will lead straight into the next chapter, giving me an easy opening and lots of plot to work with, so you can expect the next one before the end of May. (Hopefully.) Thanks so much for sticking with me, everyone. I'm so grateful and I love you all :D_

* * *

I can overhear sharp, nonsensical whispers from across the library. They're quiet for a moment. And then the grating noise starts up again. The sharp lilt of the language aggravates my already pounding head. I sigh and lean my head on the book in front of me. My head immediately begins to itch in that annoying way that happens when you lean skin against a surface it isn't used to. I growl softly to myself.

The scrape of a chair alerts me to my visitor. My head responds with another rush of pain. I glance up. Beyond waves at me cheerfully, a smile on his face that is all teeth and no friendliness. I put my head back down. "What do you want?" I mutter, tired.

"Have you started packing?" he questions, and I can hear him moving things around on my table. The shuffling is like a buffet of wind in my ears, blocking out all the noise and consuming my thoughts. I slam my hand on top of his.

"Knock it off," I say, and sit up slowly. I roll my shoulders and my head falls backward, my eyes closed. He falls still. I look at him fully as I relax back into the softness of the library chairs.

His outfit is an assault on my senses. Hot green flashes like strobe lights on the silky fabric of his blouse. The color is dizzying enough without the black polka dots topping them, small enough to worsen my migraine with every passing millisecond. I look away from the atrocity with some difficulty. He watches me appraise him curiously, a sultry look in his eyes that I don't care for. His dark red eyes are framed by that same green color, black eyeliner and lipstick to top it off.

Seconds tick by without a word, and he begins to unfurl his horns. He pulls his lips back in a snarl, a mockery of a smile. "Have you started packing, Raito?" he repeats. His impatience is astounding.

"No," I reply, casting an irritated look in his direction as I stand and make to leave. We'll be leaving in two hours, after all, and I suppose that packing is something I have to do.

A grip on my wrist stops me in my tracks. I turn to look at the biologist, wondering what the hell he wants now. "Stop prying," he hisses, angry. I rear back. "L tells me everything," he elaborates, "and I've heard all about your questioning and I don't like it. Let sleeping ghosts lie."

He releases me, almost shoving my away.

I run without looking back.

...

Matt is sitting on my bed playing on some handheld game system when I get back. I throw my hands up. "What do _you_ want?" I demand. He gives me a cursory glance, unimpressed. He sits up.

"Do you prefer red wine or white?" he inquires. Dumbfounded, I stare, my hands on my hips. "It's a simple question."

"I don't drink wine," I inform him, brushing past his figure on my way to the closet. "How long are we going to be in the States?" I ask, trying to keep my irritation out of my voice.

"Three days."

I yank three shirts off their hangers, moving to my slacks and pulling two pairs down. He watches, and I can tell he has more to say, but I do my upmost to ignore him. My head is blurring my vision again, and I lean slightly on the wall to press my fingers to my temple. Shaking it off, I kneel next to the bed and glance underneath. I locate my overnight bag from under the bed and pull it out. The sleekness of the bag is comforting on my fingertips. I fold my clothes and lay them inside.

I stand. Matt is still staring at me, and with an aggravated sigh, I gesture for him to begin. "Ignore them," he encourages.

"What?"

"The twins," this is said with a plain, bored look, one that tells me he's said things along these lines before. I feel my face contort, and he backtracks quickly, as if alarmed by whatever I was telling him. "Look- everyone's heard about what happened between you and L-" he begins.

My heart freezes over and my blood stops moving. My eyes grow wide. " _What?_ " I scream, my voice cracking under the pressure. Matt winces, a full body shudder, and so I do my best to reign in my temper. God, what has gotten _into_ me lately? There must be something in the air that's making me so exhaustingly _emotional_.

"Okay, bad choice of words, good god- Sorry, sorry," Matt scrambles, his eyes darting around the room. His hands fiddle with the gaming system anxiously, and I sigh. I seem to be doing that a lot lately, too.

"No, no," I stress, my eyes falling closed as my arms fold in front of me. "Never mind. It doesn't matter." I shake my head and turn, pulling on the door handle to head into the hallway. Matt follows, his footsteps loud on the noise-canceling carpet. I push the bathroom door open and grab a plastic bag from under the sink.

Matt begins to speak again as I pull my toiletries together. "What I meant was- L wouldn't stop _pining_ , these past two years. I know him pretty well, and I can say this confidently; no one has been as close to him as you. Not even Beyond." Matt leans on the wall, suddenly he sounds so sure of himself. I turn to face him, and Matt- Matt looks _absorbed_ in whatever he's about to say to me.

"And it's a frightening concept; to suddenly be known when you've gone your whole life living as a shadow... My point is this: give him time. But until he comes to you, just ignore him. He's an asshole, always has been, and he's going to take his feelings out on you. It isn't fair, or reasonable, or whatever, but people never are. They react, selfishly and without causation, to things that are unfamiliar. Some people do it subtly, and try to be nice about telling you to fuck off, but believe me: L and Beyond have never been those types." Matt looks down, biting absently at his lips. I can almost see his brain working behind the rose-tinted goggles.

"Just. Just ignore him. Don't take what he says to heart. He won't apologize, he's not going to take back anything. But don't give up on him. Don't let him run you around on a string, either, he'll get bored of a pushover, but. Just know the prize is worth the pain."

I stand there, and Matt gives me a pat on the shoulder before high-tailing his way out.

I jolt. Running out, I yell, "How do you know this?"

He turns around, and smirks. "People are easy to figure out! It's dealing with them that's hard!" he divulges, and holds up his hand in goodbye before he vanishes around the corner.

He's right, I think. I grab my plastic bag and stuff it in with my clothes before I zip the luggage closed.

For someone so quiet and seemingly uninterested with the world, he knows an awful lot.

I stare blankly at the patterned floor. That could be very dangerous indeed, I muse.

...

A shower and change of clothes later, there's a soft knock on my door. Watari stands there, and he gives me a quick bow before inviting me out into the hall. I swipe my bag off the floor and head out. He moves quickly, and pulls up beside me. He hands me a lollipop. "Uh. Thanks," I ventured, hoping inwardly for some sort of explanation.

"Your ears pop at high altitudes," he explains. "Saliva and swallowing help to reduce the pressure."

Well. That I knew. What I want to know is why he didn't hand me gum, instead.

"L prefers lollipops," he says, "and so I usually carry those instead of gum to keep him content and not complaining."

I laugh, and he gives me a little smirk, holding the door to the elevator open for me. I step inside and he follows.

The doors slide closed, and a pale hand reaches out to stop it. The doors swing open and Near steps inside. Watari frowns. "What-"

"I was speaking with the Task Force," Near interrupts, his melodic voice ringing clear as a bell in the enclosed space. "I was making sure they knew what they were looking for."

"They're not idiots," I mutter, and Near gives me a blank look.

"They most certainly are," he retorts, and Watari pins him with a scolding stare.

"Near," he warns, and Near says nothing more, instead reaching for the cowlick in his white hair and twirling it around his finger.

This kid creeps me out.

...

The airplane is silent.

Well, maybe not silent, I think bitterly, glancing over to my right. Matt and Mello whisper harshly to themselves, their words impossible to decipher over the din of the engines. Matt looks annoyed, though, so I guess that the words being said aren't entirely pleasant. I roll my eyes and lean back on the chair, looking around the plane.

It's not typical. It looks more like a lounge than an airplane. The seats are red leather, cool to the touch and framing the sitting area. There's an island in the center, where alcohol rests in a mini fridge under the counter. L and Beyond are playing chess across from one another, L looking more bored than I've ever seen him, and Beyond more pissed by the second.

Sure enough, "Check mate," L drones, pushing his queen into the way of the Beyond's king, with two pawns blocking any other escape route. Beyond scowls as L sighs. "Really, now. You're distracted. Chess games usually last much longer." L sounds like he's almost grieving over this fact, and I snort. Beyond snarls at me.

"Stay out of this," he snaps, and then gets slapped for his efforts by his brother.

"Don't snap at him when it's your fault you lost," the detective scolds. Beyond looks positively enraged, his lips curling. He stands abruptly and kicks the table. The pieces scatter to the floor and Beyond growls before turning, shoving the chair away and disappearing into the pilot's chamber. I let out a gasp of surprise when my shins are beaten with the back of the seat. I draw my legs up hurriedly.

Matt and Mello are staring, clearly irritated. Near curls his finger around a lock of white hair and narrows his eyes in contemplation. L just sighs. "He's so difficult on plane rides."

Doesn't mean he has to resort to violence, I think sourly, my legs throbbing. I run my hands over the areas soothingly.

The plane rocks slightly with turbulence and I turn to stare blankly out the window.

The sky is clear. It looks almost white, without the sun to reflect off the ground below. Glancing down, all I can see is the ocean. The ripples of the water numb my mind.

I press my cheek to the pillow behind me. It's a delicate silk, and it's soft under my skin. The lull of the noises on the plane and the ocean causes me to drift in and out of consciousness. Eventually, a warm blanket encircles my shoulders and the sun sinks below the horizon.

It's nice, to not think for a little while.


	6. six

Shaking.

Someone is shaking me.

Confused, I lift my head. I promptly regret it. My neck gives a sharp throb in response to my movement, and I groan. "What the hell?" I mutter, my hand, cold, runs over the sore spot. A headache blooms behind my eyes, dull and irritatingly present.

"We've landed," a familiar voice says, quiet and soothing. I glance over my shoulder, gradually unfolding the rest of my aching body.

Sleeping like this was clearly a mistake.

L stares at me, patient in a way I've never seen. His gaze is soft as he looks at me. I close my eyes to his face and rub my fingers into my eye sockets. "Watari is unloading our things, and the car is here. It's a bit of a drive to my house, so you can sleep on the way," he says.

Well now. Look who's being uncharacteristically considerate. I ignore it for now, filing it away for further perusal later. "What time is it?"

"One twenty-three," he replies. I glace outside. Yup. That would be one twenty-three in the fucking morning. I'm exhausted. I've done more time zone switches in the past couple of months than I've ever done in my life.

"I'll let you wake up a bit more. We'll be waiting in the car."

L leaves, and I sink back into the cushions with a sigh. My whole body hurts.

I let my eyes slide closed with a yawn. My brain is taking its sweet time in waking up, but I stand after a second anyway. Blood rushes to my head and I sway, suddenly glad I didn't do that while L was here. How embarrassing that would have been, I muse, reaching out to grab the windowsill. I wait for the dizziness and alarming colors in my vision to pass.

Walking isn't something my body wants to do. I stumble out of the plane and solid ground under my feet is as unpleasant as standing. I swallow a wave of unexpected nausea and walk over to the car, uncaring of my appearance at the moment.

"You look like you've been run over with a semi-truck," is Mello's contribution as soon as I sit in the limousine, next to L.

I close the door behind me and lean my head against the cool window, paying the blond menace no mind.

"You really don't look well," Watari agrees from the front seat. "I have medication at the house for your head," he continues. I groan in response as the car begins to move.

Every word from then on becomes a gentle hum. Beyond's voice is grating, however, and he speaks the most often. Mostly, he's arguing with Near and Mello, with Matt chiming in every once in a while.

L is silent. I can feel him staring at me, but I don't lift my head.

I doze off. My nap is interrupted abruptly when Watari has to break suddenly from a driver cutting him off. My head jolts forward, and it becomes a full body fight or flight response that makes my head pound and my muscles tense. "I apologize," Watari says smoothly. I glance up at him in the rearview mirror, but he's not looking at me.

He's giving L a weighted look, and I look at the man beside me to see him biting at his lip. The other four are oblivious.

Matt glances at me, and I rethink that observation. The redhead gives me a small nod.

This is significant somehow.

L wraps his arm around my waist and tugs me against him. I tense, but don't say anything, weary of the man's motives and of obnoxious, loud, and creepy over there.

Watari returns to driving after smiling slightly at L, and Matt gives me another nod.

Reluctantly, I relax into L's hold, and Matt returns to ignoring me.

"Just go back to sleep. We'll be there soon, and you need to rest," L mutters into my ear, urging me onto his shoulder.

I'm too exhausted and too emotionally worn to resist.

His hair is soft, and the clothing he's wearing is a much better comfort than the car door. He's warm, and I find myself relaxing even further the more he breathes. I wrap my arm around his waist in turn and bury my face. The conversation pauses around us, and L moves slightly, then the noises resume. I'm grateful for the lack of a fuss.

L starts to rub his thumb in circles on my hip, leaning his head on mine with a sigh.

I wish I knew what he was thinking.

...

The safe house is a quaint little place. Everyone else is clearly familiar with it. Matt immediately throws himself on the couch in the living room to the left, pulling a game boy out of his pants somewhere. I try not to think about it.

Mello follows Matt and says, "I'm going to bed. You can join me or lie there like a sack of dirt."

"I might lie down later," Matt agrees, "But I'll sit here for now."

"Fine."

Mello vanishes down the hall, curling his shoulders inward with exhaustion. He doesn't turn on any lights, which I'm grateful for, and opens a door at the end of the dark hall, vanishing behind it and shutting the door quietly behind him.

Near gives a little hum and I turn and eye him quickly. But he only turns to the right and opens a refrigerator, and starts digging through it. Beyond stands behind him and stares at the contents of the fridge until Near hands him a jar of jam. I wrinkle my nose in distaste and he smirks at me in the faint light.

L tugs on my sleeve. "Your bedroom is this way," he says quietly when I glance at him. My eyes blur slightly as my head pounds, and I nod and let him lead me away.

Damn. I swore to myself I wouldn't do this. But there's no stopping now- I'm already done for.

He stands awkwardly in the doorway as I sit on the bed. I don't know what he wants, so I just stare at him, my eyebrows raised. I blink heavily and he sighs. "I am sorry," he says, and I hold up my hand and shake my head.

"Save it. Just let me sleep, if that's all you wanted," I say, and tug the blankets down. I hear the door close and I crawl under the covers and wish I could stop feeling.

…

Waking up the next morning is every bit as difficult as I imagined it would be.

I check my phone, and blink in the brightness that reads 4:10 in the morning.

No wonder I'm so exhausted.

But there are footsteps outside the door, pacing, and I roll my eyes and get out of the bed. The damn bathroom is across the hall so I have to deal with whoever is outside. I'm thinking it's likely L, which is exactly how I don't want to start my day.

I'm wrong.

The door clicks shut behind me and Mello's eyes are pinning me in place. "I hope you're ready," he says sternly.

"To see a burn site?"

"Probably to get bombed, actually," Matt says, padding past us both down the hall, to the kitchen.

I swallow heavily and Mello stares after him, then looks at me when the redhead is no longer in sight. "He's so pessimistic," he tells me. "But I wouldn't be surprised if it actually happened."

"You're both insane."

"Are we?"

…

"I think… there's something…"

L bends down to look at a stone in the dirt, but that's all I can really see. The bodies have been cleared away, and my Skype call with my father revealed they reaped similar results. That is, nothing. No clues, not a single thing other than what was on the picture.

I have to wonder, once again, what the hell I'm doing here.

"There is," L says after a weighted moment, and Mello perks up from where he'd been picking at a tree with burn marks, and Near simply turns his head to look. Mello walks over leisurely, bending down next to L to see. L frowns at the rock.

Matt takes this distraction as an opportunity to light his cigarette, and that is when everything goes wrong.

"Fuck," Mello screeches, and L flees quickly from the rock, but Mello isn't so lucky. His screaming will haunt me forever.

He trips because of his heeled boots and the small detonation is enough to burn through the leather on his body, and I stare, half in shock, and half in fascination. The blond screams. Matt runs and crashes next to his lover, putting out the fire with the extinguisher that Watari has yanked from the car. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…" Mello repeats.

"Dial for the ambulance," L commands, but Near clicks his phone shut.

"Already done."

There is little to nothing I can do except watch, and wait. I don't know these people well enough to provide comfort of any kind.

Beyond stands next to me after Mello's been leaned against a tree, holding the rock L had found. He says nothing as he lets me take it.

00:00, in blazing red numbers, of course, but there's a note:

 _You'll suffer more before you find me again._

"Again?" I repeat, looking at Beyond for clarity.

But he shakes his head. He has no idea.

…

The ambulance arrives quickly, and Mello is on a stretcher with Matt next to him as the doors click shut. "What did you say happened?"

My father is on the phone, and I don't quite register what he's telling me as I watch the red and blue lights flicker on above the ambulance and the sirens go on.

"The same damn thing, Raito, please keep up. What's wrong?"

"Was someone hurt?" I ask, ignoring the last part because I don't want to admit that yes, my brain does seem to be slowing down. It's getting harder and harder to maintain focus.

"No, no. It went off not long after we left, apparently. Maybe twenty minutes after."

The ambulance drives away. L takes my lightly by the arm and guides me into the car.

"I want the demographics team on this immediately," Near is saying into his own phone, and my father sighs heavily.

"Is it wrong that I am glad it was the boy and not you?"

"Not at all," I say, mostly absently, as my vision blurs with a sudden, wrenching pain that rips through my head. I sit next to L in the car and lay my head on the cold window. "Look. We're driving to the hospital now, and I'll give you updates as I get them," I say.

"Alright. Stay safe."

I hang up.

…

I stare at my medication the next morning, and toss it into the trash.

I'd rather be in pain with a sharp mind than be okay without my brain power to help me.

…

Third degree, and poison gas. That's the verdict for Mello's injury.

The kid has declined the skin graphs and so he'll be out of the hospital in a week.

Until then, we're stuck here.

And there is absolutely less than nothing I want to be doing right now.

My father has texted a picture of his version of the rock to L, and we're no closer to understand who this is or what he wants.

 _Be careful what you wish for._

It makes L wonder what other notes might have been at the other bomb sites, so he's headed out with Matt and Beyond to the other sites while Near and I sit in the house.

…

 _"You're the lucky one," Beyond said._

 _"Do what?" I asked, glancing up as he sat across from me, leaning back without a care in the world._

 _"You got migraines instead of madness."_

 _"Madness? You don't seem mad, unless I look at the fact that you're a murderer."_

 _I was confused. What he was saying made little sense._

 _"As a price for the Eyes. Did you know I hear things?"_

…

I wake, eyes wide. The pain flares viciously as the light hits my eyes before settling to a dull throbbing. I groan, and roll over, looking out the window of my temporary bedroom to the setting sun. I guess I was asleep longer than I thought.

Four texts from L.

 _There were notes at the other scenes. None of them make any sense._

 _Did he know we would be there? What do you think?_

 _We might be being watched._

 _We're being watched._


End file.
